


The Devil on the Doorsteps

by PaintMeViolent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintMeViolent/pseuds/PaintMeViolent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four doorsteps he will never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil on the Doorsteps

The Potters’ house was dark and silent and strongly protected. Too strongly for them to escape. He hissed feeling success. He went up the stairs and flicked his wand.

Simple _Alohomora_ was enough.

“It’s him, Lily!” the agonizing cry tore the silence and the footsteps… footsteps that were running away. From the door he could see a wandless man. What a fool!

xxx

Joy, pure joy overtook him and he laughed in madness. Gone were the sleepless nights that were spent in searching, wandering the halls of Hogwarts. He did it.

He stood there admiring the cold decor, the monstrous statues, green marble. Ancient magic. He bathed in the sensation of it. For a second he became lost in the triumph, excitement, euphoria. But only for a second.

He had things to do, Mudbloods to kill.

xxx

He looked at the towers that were glomming in the darkness that was all around him. In a few seconds he’s going to be on the doorsteps of Hogwarts, where people were like him – special, different. And he would prove to them that he’s different from them, that he’s better, smarter. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know his parents, they were wizards, at least his father was a wizard. Because if his mother was a witch, then he wouldn’t have been alone, she wouldn’t have been dead. Magic would have saved her. He is himself and one day they would fear his name. They would fear him.

xxx

Mrs. Cole placed the newborn on the bed and looked at him. The baby was very handsome, nothing like his mother – poor girl… She was no beauty, she was right to hope that the baby would look like his father. But yet, she was uncomfortable being near him. Sometimes all of a sudden she would feel so much despair, fear and pain when in the same room with him.

She looks at the boy. Dark hair, pale skin, …red eyes? She blinked. No, no, his eyes were brown. Must be the lamps.

“Welcome, Tom Marvolo Riddle”


End file.
